


Guardian Angel

by FandomNutter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe, Awesome Bobby, Awkward Flirting, Destiel - Freeform, Human Castiel, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, One Shot, Protective Dean Winchester, Teen Cas, Teen Dean Winchester, Teen Sam Winchester, no one dies, orphan Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:41:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomNutter/pseuds/FandomNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to retrieve his brother from a drug den. Sam is semiconscious and hallucinating, and he requires Dean's help to get to the impala. Dean starts driving home not realizing that there is some one in the back seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guardian Angel

“Sam?” Dean shouted hoarsely as he kicked the door down. Gun drawn he entered the squatter’s house and scanned the faces around the room. They were either looking fearfully at the gun or else too blitzed out to care. His brother was not among them.  
He advanced further into the building, floor boards creaking as he passed a room full of thick smoke without a glance.

An object waiting for him at the end of the hall made his stomach flip. One of Sam’s shoes lay on its side in the semidarkness, its laces tied in several clumsy knots. Dean snatched it up as if fearing it would try to escape before entering the room to his right.

Sam was spread eagle on a cot in the center of the otherwise empty room.  
“Sammy,” Dean said quietly as he walked to him. His brother’s eyelids were limp and Dean lifted one to find a bloodshot eye. He tucked his gun into his belt before crouching down next to Sam in a mess of fast food wrappers and other junk to undo the knots in his shoe laces. Once the shoe had been tied to its respective foot Sam began to stir.

“Come on Sammy, we need to get you home.” Dean whispered as he put an arm around his brother’s shoulder.  
Sam stumbled to his feet and allowed Dean to guide him out of the room muttering, “What about the angel?”

 

Dean lead Sam out of the house supporting most of his weight and giving warning glares to any one who tried to approach them. His brother’s eyes were unfocused and he continually babbled about angels and how sounds had scent. The idiot was high out of his mind. Dad was going to kill him.

Dean chuckled darkly to to himself. No, dad wad going to kill him. Even in John  
Winchester’s most drunken rages he would never hurt Sam.

 

The black impala was barley visible in the dark. Sam tried to follow Dean through the driver’s door not understanding that the passenger door was unlocked, forgetting that it was always unlocked.

 

As Dean drove Sam fiddled with the radio dial excitedly describing each sent. He was a wreck, worse off than usual, and Dean was weighing the consequences of returning home with his high brother against renting a hotel room for the night to let Sam cool down. Either option would lead to wrath from their father. Then again he could just keep driving and never see that drunk bastard again.

Sam tugged on his sleeve shaking him from his train of thought.  
“Dean, Deeeeeeeeeeeean, its the angel!”

“Uh-ha” Dean muttered absentmindedly wondering what else his brother was seeing.

“No, Dean, the angel is here,” Sam persisted giggling.

Dean continued to ignore him and Sam let out a exasperated sigh. He began to squirm in his seat before stretching over its back. Dean attempted to make him sit down with one hand and continue driving with the other, and failed.

“What have you got against angels? You ain’t religious.” Sam turned his head and continued, “I bet its nice. Say hello Dean!”

“Hello Dean?” A confused voice mumbled from the back seat.

“What the hell?” Dean shouted jerking the steering wheel and swerving the car off the road. He twisted around in his seat to see a pair of squinting blue eyes peering back at him.

“Angel.” Sam murmured happily before curling up in his seat.

Dean fumbled for a flashlight and shined it into the back seat. It illuminated a thin teenager about his age wearing only tattered jeans and a pair of old converse. He had covered the leather seats of the car with a well worn trench coat, which he appeared to be using as a blanket. The light seemed to irritated his eyes and he turned his back to Dean. An elaborate tattoo depicting a life like set of wings had been penned cross his shoulders. Angel.

Dean lowered the flashlight and warily asked, “What are you doing in my car?”

The kid slowly turned back blinking, “It was unlocked,” he said after a pause, “I thought it belonged to one of the other guys.”

Dean licked his lips wondering what to do. The guy seemed harmless enough, but it did not take a genius to realize he should not be trusted. He should dump him and drive like there was no tomorrow. But there was something about his ruffled black hair and innocently puzzled face that made Dean question himself. They where miles down a country road and more than halfway home. Dean let out a sigh of resignation to the inevitable and asked,  
“Whats your name?”

“Castiel.” The teen in the replied quietly.

“Listen, Castiel-”

“But you can call me Cas.” he interrupted shyly.

“Right, Cas, I am going to rent a room for you and Sam here to to sober up in tonight and tomorrow I will drive you to where ever you have to be. How does that sound?”

Cas considered him for a second before replying, “Okay Dean,” and lying back down on his coat. Dean shook his head and spared a glance at his sleeping brother as he restarted the car. He was probably making a huge mistake.

 

Dean stopped at a gas station to pick up a few things, nervously glancing out at his car every few seconds to check that his passengers were still sleeping. He hurried back to them once the gum chewing cashier had given him his change and drove a few miles to the nearest motel.

He entered the manager's office and waited impatiently for a room key. Dean gently woke Sam and helped him onto one of the two beds in their room. He returned to the car and called Castiel before gathering his groceries. Cas stumbled exiting the car and dragged his coat behind him like a child would a blanket as he trailed behind Dean.

Sam was snoring softly when the entered the room and Dean gestured to the empty bed, “Get some sleep,” before sitting in a chair by the table.

Castiel stared at him as if he wanted to say something before trudging over to the bed and lying on top of the covers. He wrapped himself in his trench coat and said a quiet “Thank you.”

 

Dean’s eyes fluttered open and he sleepily took in his surroundings. He was sleeping on his side on an old but comfortable bed. Sam was asleep on a bed across from him. They must have stopped at a motel the night before. He let out a sigh and began to doze off.

His eyes snapped open when he remembered Cas. Cas who was suppose to be sleeping in this bed. In panic Dean shoved his hands into his pockets and realized that they were empty.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” Dean roared jolting Sam from his sleep mid snore. Dean jumped from the bed, got tangled in the blanket, and plummeted face first towards the floor.

“Dean?” a familiar quiet voice asked. He looked up to see blue eyes watching him from a dark corner of the room. “Are you alright?”

With a groan Dean rose to his feet. “I am just peachy,” he grumbled.

“You fell asleep in the chair and I thought I should move you.” Castiel said hurriedly, absentmindedly twisting the trench coat in his hands, “I did not realize it would upset you.”

“Its okay,” Dean muttered thinking he ought to be the one apologizing. Instead he turned his attention to his groggy brother. He carried one of the shopping bags over to his bed and removed a jug of water. Dean coaxed Sam to drink while Cas watched silently.

When Sam eventually shuffled off to the bathroom Dean sat at the end of the bed and put his head in his hands. He felt the bed dip and realized that Cas must have joined him. They sat in silence until water could be heard running in the next room.

Castiel was the first to speak, “Sam is in pretty bad.”

Dean looked up at him, “You don’t seem much better.”

Castiel poked a finger through a hole in his jeans, “So my clothes look like they were mauled by Bastet. I am not the one relying on Ruby for my high.”

“Ruby?” Dean asked wondering who Bastet was.

“Your brother’s dealer. She is really into experimental stuff and your brother is her main lab rat.” Cas paused before continuing, “Your brother seems decent, he is docile. Even the most potent drugs don’t seem to effect him right.”

“I first met him last month,” Cas said answering Dean’s unasked question, “and by met I mean started sharing a room with him.”

“Cas, what are you doing in a place like that?” the question finally escaped Dean’s lips.

Castiel hesitated before replying, “My parents just sort of, well they just left me there. I just do my best to keep an eye on the other squatters and to discourage newcomers. Occasionally I roll a blunt, but that is the extent of my substance abuse.”

A guardian angel Dean mused as he noted the scars on Castiel’s exposed arms and chest. “Our father is an alcoholic.” Dean said suddenly. Cas looked up from his torn jeans attentively, “My mother died when Sam and I were really young,” he paused, his voice momentarily choked with emotion, “The only sort of decent family we’ve got is a adoptive uncle, and he lives half way across the the country.”

The water stopped and Dean lowered his voice and leaned towards Cas conspiratorially, “I have been thinking of running off to live with him for a while now, but I know I can’t do it with just Sam. It is really frustrating because I am sure it would help with his problem.”

Dean stopped speaking suddenly, realizing he was talking to a completely stranger that he had met in a drug den hours earlier. A stranger with endearing eyes and who was looking at him with a mixture of sincerity and understanding. Dean made up his mind and then said, “Cas, I am going to do something incredibly stupid, and I need you to promise to take me seriously.”

Castiel nodded, a glint of dawning hope in his eyes.

“You seem like a decent guy,” Dean said hurriedly forcing his words out before common sense caught up with him, “so if you want you can come with us. Uncle Bobby has a big house and would take you in like a son. We will have to help him with his car repair business, but it is not too much work.”

Castiel looked at him in disbelief, “Are you serious?”

“One hundred percent.”

Cas moved towards Dean who instinctively stiffened. The other teen threw his arms around him and embraced him tightly. Dean blinked in slight confusion, unsure of what to do, but pretty certain he could relax his taught muscles. Cas nestled his head into Dean’s arm, and the Winchester looked down at him and suppressed a chuckle. With his mess of black hair and tattoo Castiel looked like a dishevel bird.

Sam wandered into the room toweling off his hair, and when he spotted Dean he wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. Dean glared back and gently disengaged Cas from him.

Castiel sat back, gently kicking his legs against the side of the bed. Dean shook his head. What a weird guy.

“Sam?” he called over to his brother.

“Yeah,” Sam replied and Dean could see his barriers going up.

“We, as in you, me, and Cas here are going on a road trip.”

Sam’s face betrayed a flick of irritation, “For how long?”

“For the foreseeable future.”

Sam’s expression darkened and Castiel whispered, “I think we are going to have some resistance from him.”

“Yeah, thanks Cas, I could figure that out on my own.”

“We need to stay here,” Sam said flexing his shoulder as if preparing to fight, “all of our friends live here and not to mention, our dad who owns our house.”

“No Sam. First off, we don’t have friends. We haven't had friends since fifth grade. Second, dad is poison, nothing good comes from that man. We are going to live with Bobby.”

Sam brightened momentarily, “Bobby?” before his face fell, “but here-”

“Yes,” Dean interrupted loosing his temper, “here you have Ruby,” Cas flinched as Sam looked at him, “and your drugs, and dad yelling at you all hours of the day. How could it get any better than this?”

His brother lowered his head in resignation, “Alright, I will go to Bobby’s, but why are we taking this guy? No offense.”

Cas tilted his head and looked at Dean who was biting his lip. “Because he deserves another chance,” Dean replied eventually, “and we can give it to him. Plus if dad comes to call Bobby can use him as a cover story. His name is Castiel by the way. Castiel, meet Sam Winchester.”

Sam shook his hand and asked, “What is your full name?”

Castiel went quiet for a moment before turning to Dean, “What is Bobby’s last name?”

“Singer,” Dean replied, bemused.

“Castiel Singer,” Cas said turning back to Sam.

“What, you don’t want to be a Winchester?” Sam inquired with a smile.

Castiel glanced at Dean, “Not exactly.”

Sam let out a roar of laughter and clapped Cas on the back as Dean blushed.

“Careful there Captain Kirk,” Dean mumbled his face pink.

Castiel squinted at him, “I don’t understand that reference.”

Dean’s blush was replaced by a scandalized look, “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“When we get to Bobby’s we are going to have a Star Trek marathon.”

“Your first date!” Sam wheezed, still laughing.

“Shut up Sam!”

“Do you want me to drive so you two can have the back?”

“I will kill you.”

“How long is the drive?” Castiel asked to no one in particular.

“A little over a thousand miles,” Sam said with a smirk, “so you can kiss Kansas good bye and and someone hello.”

“That one wasn't even funny,” Dean grumbled snatching up his keys and stalking outside.

“I can make a joke about walking 500 miles if you like.” Sam called after him before turning to Castiel and saying, “Come on Cas, there is a long road ahead,” and leading him out the door.

 

The black 67 chevy impala pulled into Singer Salvage Yard. Inside the weather worn house a man in old cloths and a greasy cap jumped from his chair and went to the door to greet his boys. Dean reached his hand over to the passenger seat, not to subdue his drug fueled brother, but to take the hand of Castiel Singer. He gave it a squeeze and whispered, “We’re home.” Then they and the guffawing idiot in the back seat exited the car to begin their new life.

**Author's Note:**

> This work can also be found on my Deviant Art Account, DragonHaven42


End file.
